


Pumpkin

by Imagining_in_the_Margins



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Accents, Awkward Flirting, Co-workers, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Love, Love Confessions, POV Spencer Reid, Self-Insert, Southern Accent, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:36:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27156019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagining_in_the_Margins/pseuds/Imagining_in_the_Margins
Summary: Spencer can’t handle how cute Reader’s southern accent is.
Relationships: Spencer Reid & Reader, Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 103





	Pumpkin

Her hair reminded me of summertime. There was no particular reason for it, but it did. Watching her move felt like watching a painting come to life, and I wondered how anyone could look past her so easily. Like they weren’t being graced with the presence of a faerie in the form of a woman. 

Her voice reminded me of molasses, but there was a little more of a reason for that. The gentle drawl in between each word felt like something that couldn’t be shaken off very easily. The kind of thing that left sweet, sticky marks on whatever it touched. Her eyes were equally paralyzing. I’d compare them to snake venom, but I felt that metaphor might be ill-received by someone unfamiliar with the creature’s impressive evolutionary design.

Which is why I was grateful that we hadn’t had much time to talk alone. I was worried that once we did, she would notice the way I couldn’t form a single coherent sentence when she looked at me. She would take one look at me and know that I was completely lost on backroads and fields that didn’t have names. The same ones that no doubt filled her memories.

I wanted to find them with her. I wanted to become a part of those memories so that the next time I found myself lost, it wouldn’t be because of her. It would be with her.

Despite my job being filled with maps, I knew that it would take more to navigate her world. I was a city boy, after all. A city boy in love with a Southerner; as if there weren’t already enough novellas and soap operas exactly like that.

“Hey, sugarplum?” (Y/n) called from her desk that she’d only just settled into, and for a second I was so distracted looking at her that I almost forgot to answer.

“... A-Are you talking to me?”

It was a stupid question, considering she was looking right at me. And from the way she cocked her hip to the side, she agreed with me about that much.

“I don’t see any other sweet things in the room!” she shouted through a laugh. That was more bad news for me, because when she laughed, I swore the rotation of the earth and the passage of time itself stopped to make the moment last a little bit longer.

“Would you be a dear and help me carry these files?” she asked once the world finally returned to its normal rotation.

“Sure.” I agreed because there was no saying no to her, even though I knew it was a terrible idea. Any extra moment with her just meant more opportunities to make a fool out of myself. Another chance to fall even more in love with a woman who barely knew my name.

“You’re a lifesaver, sweetheart.” There was a heavy sigh that fell with the words, and it reminded me of the breeze on a hot summer day.

I wondered what it was like where she was from. I was so used to the dry, desert heat. Even after moving to Virginia, my Nevada roots stayed with me. I wondered if her voice like dripping honey was the only thing that she kept with her from home- wherever that was. I carried mine in odd patterned clothes and gambling abilities.

She carried hers in sweetness and in grace. I was certain that the tea we drank in Las Vegas had less than half the sugar in a liter than she had in a cup. And although I only saw her in business suits, I could picture her in a sundress and a wide brimmed hat so vividly that it hurt my heart.

“You know, I was talkin’ with some of the others ‘bout you last night.”

That hurt my heart, too, but in another way.

“That… doesn’t usually bode well for me,” I muttered back, somehow managing not to stutter despite the way my heart rate doubled. 

“Why?” she asked with a suspicious, curious timbre. She leaned closer to me with narrowed eyes and wicked grin. “What’d you do to ‘em?”

In an entirely unconvincing manner, all I could do was squeak out a small, “Nothing!”

“That’s a guilty voice if I ever heard one.” She clicked her tongue, shaking her head just enough for me to notice all the different ways the light would catch the features on her face. The way that somehow, each was more beautiful than the last.

I would have stared for longer, but her eyes caught mine looking. With the snapshot I’d caught before I returned facing forward, I could only think about the way she somehow managed to encapsulate the sour and sweetness of her lemonade with the tiniest little glance. She shook her head again at my reaction, but ended my suffering, nonetheless.

“Anywho, it wasn’t nothin’ bad. They told me you liked autumn,” she said, following up with a silly clarification, “The season, not the person.”

I didn’t know anyone around us who had that name (and I had, at one point, read the entire bureau’s directory for our building), but I felt like that was sort of the point of the joke. 

“Yes! I do,” I returned, struggling to keep my smile under control. It wanted to cover my entire face, but I thought it might make it too easy for the butterflies in my stomach to escape. “Mostly Halloween, but the rest of the season is nice, too.”

“You like the tricks and not the treats? Makes sense, seein’ how sweet you are.” I want to say she cooed, but it was hard to tell if I was just projecting my fondness for her onto her voice. It was easy to do when all of her cadences sounded like music.

“Thanks,” I said, albeit with a blush and a bit of a chuckle. “I think?”

(Y/n) looked up at me then, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes and a little grin tugging at the side of her lips. It was like she was about to say something, but she never got the chance. Just as she pushed the door open, she caught sight of something else that tore her attention away from me. 

“We’ll I’ll be,” she muttered, still smiling although her voice was trying its hardest to be menacing. 

Luke, who was lounging with his feet up in the conference room, didn’t even bother moving from his position. “What?” he asked, returning her head tilt with one of his own.

“I beg your pardon?” (Y/n) shot back, and I realized I was definitely missing something. The two of them were practically reading each other’s minds, and they shared a secret smile and a laugh.

I'd always hated inside jokes.

“You’ll be what?” Luke finished.

The woman to my side burst into laughter as she dropped the files on the table. She leaned forward to pat his cheek, and judging from the sound, she hit it hard enough that he’d feel it once she stopped. Not hard enough to hurt, just enough to tingle for a few minutes in her absence.

I wondered what it must be like - for her to touch you enough to make the feeling stay. Although, preferably it wouldn’t be a slap on the face. But when it came to her, I wasn’t particularly picky.

“Oh, bless your heart, Luke.” She definitely cooed that time, running her hand up his face and shaking it in his hair. “So lazy you wouldn’t even chase a snake away.”

“Are you the snake in this scenario?” he didn’t move her hand away. I wished he would, but she was the one who let it drop. Of course, it was followed by her winking at him, which only made the knots in my stomach turn to bricks.

“You bet your ass I am,” she replied as she brought the back of her hand to her chin, holding her face up in a presentation of the devastating beauty that was her smile.

_He doesn’t appreciate it like he should_ , I thought before I caught myself. I was way too old to be getting this jealous over harmless flirting. She had just been flirting with me seconds earlier; it was just in her blood. She made men fall in love with her. She was good at it.

But Luke was good at making people fall in love with him, too. With the puppy dog looks, his actual dog, and the rugged exterior that came from living a life far more exciting than mine. He was more experienced at pretty much everything than I was, but still managed to stay humble.

_I like Luke_ , I reminded myself, _I’m just being petty_.

“You are kind of reptilian with that cold heart of yours.”

But I didn’t like Luke enough to let him insult her. Not even as a joke, and especially not with a joke that didn’t make sense. The first indication I had that I was talking was the sound of my own frantic voice.

“Actually, the term cold-blooded, or ectothermic, means that the animal relies on its surrounding environment to maintain the accurate body temperature.”

If anything was cold here, it was my tone. Despite my words falling quickly and with a strict pronunciation, there was an undercurrent of malice that threatened to drown anything that came near it. And apparently, my mind was really intent on that petty jealousy thing, because it didn’t stop there.

“So, in a metaphor where a person is cold blooded, it _should_ imply that the person keeps good company.”

Luke was staring at me like he usually did whenever I ranted, with furrowed brows and a slightly opened mouth. “I just figured it meant they liked cooler temperatures,” he shrugged, and for a second I thought the moment was over.

But then he looked at (y/n), and I followed suit to see that she had her arms crossed while she stared intently at… me.

I had made a mistake. Just as I feared, she’d heard the way my heart beat faster and harder for her, and she knew. I had to say something, anything, so I just clung to the only thing in the room I definitely understood. “Not at all. Some lizards prefer temperatures around 100 to 150 degrees Fahrenheit!”

“You callin’ me a lizard, Doctor?”

I had made so many mistakes; that was very clear to me by then. Luke made it even more obvious when he started to laugh. He finally moved from his position, practically sprinting out of the room but still stopping to pat me sympathetically on the shoulder as he did.

“No, not at all!” I urged. Dropping my share of the files next to her, I turned to find she didn’t look angry at all. Any semblance of apathy or a glare seemed to disappear with Luke. I was grateful, although confused. I think she saw it on my face.

“I’m just pulling your leg, pumpkin. I’m not mad at you.” She sighed again, and it still reminded me of the breeze. I could almost hear the rustle of the trees on a cool summer evening under the stars. They would be visible where she was from.

She must have taken my silence as a bad thing, because she continued to talk when I didn’t give a response. “I’m flattered you think I keep good company. Although that’s really just a compliment for yourself.” Unlike with Luke, she didn’t touch me. She just gestured to me with a loose hand.

“Right. I guess that’s true. Although we don’t spend much time together outside of work.”

It was one of those things that you don’t regret until after you say it. Because it wasn’t until after I'd said it that I realized how poorly it could go. She could be offended and reject me, or heaven forbid, offer to remedy the problem.

Naturally, she picked the most terrifying option.

“Would you like to? Lots of autumn festivals around.”

That’s when I saw it— the vulnerability in her eyes. I heard it too, in the way her voice trembled as it got lower in volume and pitch. I spent so long trying to figure out exactly what that meant, that she corrected the behaviors she'd caught me analyzing.

“We could go to a farm and see which of us can find a better brother for you.” She was back to the playful way of talking. And, being the smitten fool that I was, I got so caught up in staring at her that I’d missed the joke.

“What?”

“I’m teasing you, _pumpkin_.” She emphasized the nickname in the hope that I’d figure it out without her having to explain it.

I was the king of over-explaining jokes until they weren’t funny anymore. It was a horribly lonely kingdom. I wondered if she’d like it there.

When I did finally understand the reference, picking out a pumpkin from a patch to match the man she called ‘pumpkin,’ I bit down on my lip to hide the bashful smile that threatened to reveal my innermost thoughts.

(Y/n) nudged my side, and I looked down to catch another wink. This one was aimed at me.

“Try to keep up,” she said.

“So, I’m the pumpkin,” I drawled in a poor attempt at mirroring her accent. In a split second I realized how that might be seen as mocking, and with both hands up I promptly started, “I’m so sorry! I’m not making fun of you I swear—!”

I was cut off just as swiftly, her fingers pressing over my lips just enough that the feeling would stay when she was gone. Her skin was as soft and warm as I expected. There was no metaphor for how it made me feel, but it certainly was nice. She didn’t keep them there for long, though. Just enough to hush me so that she could speak.

“The others make fun of my accent, but you seem to find it charming. Why is that?” The question had obviously been on her mind for a while. Her fingers that had been on my lips were now finicking with her clothes in a nervous display.

“Makes you unique, I guess.”

It was the only excuse I could think of quickly. I certainly wasn’t going to tell her the truth; that I found her accent charming because it made me think of homemade fruit pie, fresh peaches, and fireflies. I think she saw through the lie. I hoped she knew it was to hide adoration rather than resentment.

“In the North, maybe” she scoffed, turning away from me to take a seat on top of the table next to the files. It was the first time she’d indicated she wanted to continue the conversation. The only problem was that I still couldn’t talk when she looked at me like that.

“I reckon it’s you livin’ your cowboy fantasy vicariously through me.” Her tongue peeked out from between her lips, and the small motion destroyed any hope I had for my heart. It almost completely stopped at the sight.

(Y/n) had no mercy, either. Dragging her tongue over her teeth, she clicked it at the last second to continue her thought. “Hate to break it to you, but I’m no good on a horse. I like my feet on the ground.”

After I’d managed to regain control over my wandering mind, I had the capacity to feel the earth shattering embarrassment that came from her knowing about my childhood dream. Considering I’d only told JJ, I knew whom to be mad at later. Or whom to thank. It would depend on how the rest of this conversation went.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you talked about me,” I whispered, bringing a hand to cover part of the flushing on my face. The only problem was it reminded me of her fingers on my still tingling lips. The flushing did not go away.

“Sure wasn’t,” she innocently responded.

And then she looked at me. It wasn’t the way people normally looked at me. Her eyes roamed over my figure that felt tense under her scrutiny. I couldn’t tell what she was looking for, but she was a woman on a mission. Her observation of my face was the longest, and looking back, I would regret not having smiled for her. I was just too scared that she might find figurative hearts in my eyes if I did.

But that wasn’t where her gaze settled. No, it rested just below my neck.

“C’mere pumpkin,” she said as she beckoned to me, “you’ve gone and made your tie all cattywampus.”

I glanced down to find the loose, messy knot that had stretched on account of the boxes I’d held to my chest. With a chuckle, I followed her instruction and stepped forward. Our legs bumped against each other, and my body immediately soaked in the heat she radiated. I wondered if she could feel how badly I wanted to be close to her.

“Can I ask you a question?” I asked without thinking. I blamed my traitorous heart for trapping me into asking another question. The real question I wanted an answer to.

“I sure hope you can, seein’ as you just did.” A terrible, very old joke that I couldn’t believe I’d set her up for. I hoped we could still laugh after her response to the next part.

“Why do you only call me by nicknames?”

Her hands that had been undoing my tie froze. She stared harder at the fabric like it would answer for her. When it didn’t, she started to move again. “Does it bother you?” she muttered half under her breath. I couldn’t tell if she expected a rejection, but if she did, she was a fool.

“No,” I said. I wanted to say so much more, but I didn’t. ‘ _No_ ’ would suffice for the time being. At least, I thought it would.

(Y/n) disagreed.

“Why’re you asking me then?”

“I’m curious.” My response was fast because it was the truth. Something made me different in her mind, and I wanted to know what it was. I wanted to know so that I would never, ever change it.

There was another reason, too. And she knew it as well.

“I think you have a theory, Doctor.”

I wasn’t sure if I could classify ‘Doctor’ as a nickname, considering most people called me Dr. Reid, but it felt so different on her tongue. She could say it a million times and I’d never grow tired of it.

“Maybe,” I whispered.

“Well,” she chirped, sliding the tie knot back in place but refusing to let go just yet, “let’s hear it.”

“Is it too late to take back my question?” My last attempt to avoid the thing that I’d literally just asked permission to discuss. She seemed a little sympathetic to my hypocritical turmoil, but not enough to give in.

“Never too late,” she assured me. Of course, the deal didn’t end there. “But if you don’t tell me right now, I’ll never let you say it again.”

My attention was stuck on the way her hand stayed rooted on my tie that wouldn’t stay neat for long. I’d barely resisted her light tug, but I couldn’t be blamed for it. She was so easy to sway closer to. It was so much more difficult to step away from her.

“Fine. I think...” I trailed off, trying to find my words. She had tugged again, like she could pull the words from my lips faster. And I smiled, breaking all resistance and leaning closer until the excess fabric was loose in her fingers.

“I think you might be a little sweet on me.”

Her eyes widened at the phrase, and her eyelashes batted a couple of times too many before she burst out in laughter.

“Well I’ll be, someone’s been studyin’ my language!” she chuckled, lightly pushing on my chest but not letting me go too far.

“I do speak several. Korean, Spanish, Russian...”

“And southern, it seems,” she added. I didn’t have the heart to tell her ‘Southern’ wasn’t technically a language, but an accent that varied by region more than anything. Truth be told, I didn’t care at that moment.

A quiet calm filled the room that suddenly felt simultaneously too big and too small to fill the mixture of emotions. The sparks between us reminded me of sparklers at a tailgate, or the sudden flash of heat lightning in the distance.

I had another question.

“So, is that a yes?”

With her swift pull on my tie, our mouths crashed together. It felt less like lightning or sunshine and more like something unique. The clashing of two atmospheres, two landscapes, two worlds. The embrace of two lips of two lovers with nothing in between.

It didn’t matter where we were from or what dialect we spoke. The message was clearly enunciated in each second that passed. Still, when she pulled away with a dreamy sigh, she said it, nonetheless.

“I reckon it is, pumpkin.”


End file.
